


Curiosity Killed the Cat

by Moth1988



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Good Guy Bendy (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23856199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moth1988/pseuds/Moth1988
Summary: It's a little more than obvious that the toon hasn't been touched in a very long time.
Relationships: "Bendy" | Ink Bendy/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago in 2017 when the game was more recent, so the lore represented in this may be a bit out of wack haha! Edited slightly for the first time in three years for grammar's sake! Enjoy! :)

He's soft, all too soft for something that was never made to be held, but as you paw and thumb at his skin with as delicate a touch you can manage, watching with curiosity and a strange sort of fascination-- you can't quite believe such a thing.

You suppose he was created how we was, indignantly adorable and soft, to appease children. And yet the way he purrs and whimpers helplessly when you stroke certain spots makes him seem anything _but_.

His stomach is the softest part of him-round and admittedly a bit chubby as you stroke at the squishiness with your thumb and feel the black void, soft and malleable like velvet against gentle hands. He sighs, and you can't help but grin a bit when you feel him finally relax underneath your trusted touch. 

A bit wary at first, he had made you promise not to tease him when you first asked if you could look at him a bit. Curiosity killed the cat, he reminded you with words without bite and yet tinged with a distinct nervousness that made him fidget. That's just what you had been, _curious_. He was such a strange thing, but such a sweet one at that. With an accent that hadn't graced the world in _ages_ and a voice that only a character like him could have. You couldn't help but wonder what brought on such a timid request, but you complied without hesitation. What was there to _tease_ , really?

He almost purred when you first began to touch his face, leaning into the touch with lidded eyes. "Enjoying yourself?" He quipped with a lazy grin, voice low and quiet with sleepiness from such gentle movements. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and watched as he melted into your touch with closing eyes. Literally, it seems, in his case. Some type of movement you _had_ to have made in subtle surprise makes him pull back, hand cradling his dripping cheek and watching your own hand coated in deep black ink with wide eyes. 

" _Oh_ _no_." He says, so quiet that you can't quite tell if he's talking to himself or to you.

He looks almost afraid, and looks at you with pleading eyes when he apologizes profusely, and just like that his peppy confidence is gone. "I am _so_ sorry, uhh... this happens sometimes." He looks up at you, features painted with sheer embrassment. You can't help but feel bad for the poor thing. "Are you, are you alright?" 

His voice is wavering and his features turn from mortified to confused and the least bit concerned when you grin. "I, uh--" He stutters with a shaky voice before clearing his throat and trying again, avoiding your curious gaze with a bashful hesitance against all of the attention. "I don't understand why this is happening." He laughs a nervous giggle and pulls back his hand now coated with the same substance and stares at it with an accusatory look. "It just felt really _good_ and I, uh," He coughs and you can't help but want to try and get that same reaction out of him again. "I'm not used to being, um, _touched_." He's just too damn cute like this, all timid and shameful in a way that's so rarely shown.

You bring gentle, slow hands to his soft stomach again and he shivers. "I uh," He stutters. "I don’t know if I can keep that from happening again." He warns, and you can already feel his skin softening under your touch.

"It’s _amazing_." You hush and can swear you can hear him choke, so you intertwine your fingers with his. Small pin-pricks of claws so ironically unthreatening dig into your palm as you continue thumbing at the skin that turns into feverishly dripping ink once more, to his apparent dismay. But he seems distracted from the embarrassment as he gasps and shivers, skin so unused to being touched and so sensitive in a way that makes him tremble beneath your hands.

He's fairly quiet at this point, panting and gasping as you touch him until your busy hands wander to his pointed tail that's flicking back and forth almost rhythmically, he groans and squirms in your arms. "Wow, that..." He stutters. "oh _golly_ ," He gasps as you trace up and down the thin appendage with a feather-light touch that has his hips wiggling and thighs rubbing themselves together at a frenzied pace. 

Well this is new.

But then you take the tip between your fingers and rub at it, and he groans so loudly that he covers his face with his free hand. "This is _real_ embarrassing," He huffs and squirms but can't help but moan again, and then mumbles to himself, "But it just feels so _nice_."

He shudders, and meets your eyes for a moment or two, gnawing at his lip with dangerously sharp canines. He groans once more and grins with a cocky satisfaction when the tables are turned and you're rendered speechless and flushed as he guides both of his hands between his legs. His confidence his back, cockiness in full swing as he watches your bewitched reaction and gages such between pants and moans. "Do you, do you like what you see?" He grins at you with devilish intentions as he takes your own hand in his, sticky with ink like hot tar. 

Without another word and an unwavering grin, he spreads his legs that tremble and quake with a need you just know he's inexperienced with. You can tell by the way he's trembling, trying to keep up an aura of confidence as if he has any idea of what the _hell_ he's doing. 

You suppose that's exactly what he was made for, huh?

"It--it's starting to _hurt_." He admits, voice strained as he rubs his thighs together again in impatience, in search for any sort of relief to the relentless burning and tension between his legs. "Help an ol' pal out?" Desperation laces his shaky words, and with an all too slow guidance, he takes your hand in between his legs that seem to almost melt with the sheer amount of inky blackness that drips out from between them. 

He grinds against your hand, and yet it doesn't seem to bring him any relief as his eyes water. He must've been serious, and you can't stand to see the demon cry.

Without hesitation or a moment to question the sheer implications of what was taking place, you slip a finger into the less-than-solid ink and pump with a steady rhythm that has him almost sobbing with relief. "Damn, _aahhh_ ," He groans quietly, and the desperation in his tone alone has you grinning with a twisted sort of satisfaction.

You stroke his tail again with one hand, the other pumping in and out of the soft void between his legs that drips relentlessly onto your lap, a puddle of ink that's just as dark as the demon that's coming undone in your hands. "Does that feel any better?" You ask quietly.

He bites his lip and screws his eyes shut, a blissed out expression on his face as he nods and groans in wordless response.

He tenses suddenly, back straight as he stops bouncing on your fingers and cries out. Ink drips down your arm and you pull out of the warm heat as he's collapsing back into your arms with puffing breaths. The puddle of ink continues to drip into your lap, and you couldn't care less. 

The ink demon shudders and falls backward against you with a tired chuckle. "'M sorry for the mess."


End file.
